Evil in Hockley (5 page)

“Thanks Sandy.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We’re still in
deep shit.”

Pop. Twang. A bullet ricocheted off the
pavement. The boat was moving closer.

They raced across the lights on red,
greeted by the sound of car horns. Sandy laughed thinking they must
have looked a sight: drenched and in sock and stocking feet, bent
low like thieves on the run. She was beginning to think there was
hope for them after they passed the McDonalds restaurant. They
stopped at the twenty four hour service station to call for a
taxi.

“We’ll go to my place,” said
Sandy.

“No way. I don’t want to lead them to
your house.”

Harry still had his wallet loaded with
soaked money. It was reluctantly accepted by the cab driver when
Harry gave him twice the estimated fare.

“How did you get wet? Is not raining?”
asked the cabby.

“We went for a midnight
swim.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Broken down.”

The cabby was asking too many questions
no doubt trying to find a story to share with his friends. He
complained about having to hair dry a wet back seat. Harry gave him
another bill and he shut up.

They were home in fifteen minutes. The
first thing Harry did was slide under his car and retrieve his
Beretta. He locked the doors and drew the curtains then they both
showered and hopped into bed.

“Think they’ll come after
us?”

“No Sandy, They’ll know I’m ready. Tony
knows he can’t compete on equal terms. He had his chance, now it’s
my turn. Thanks to you.”

He kissed her and she kissed him with
all the passion she could gather. She climbed on top of him using
her vagina and breasts to make him hard. She kissed and rubbed as
though trying to push herself into his skin. Then she mounted him
and stroked until he groaned in release.

“You saved my life then made love to
me. The best sex I ever had.”

“Why do you think I saved you? I needed
that more than you did. This danger stuff is a turn on.”

“It is if you live through
it.”

“We did. What now?”

“I don’t know yet.”

She knew he had his next move planned
but he wasn’t about to share.

“I’m in.”

“What?”

“I’m in Harry. Whatever is next I’m
part of it.”

“No way. I’m not dragging you into
this.”

“I’m in Harry.”

“No way.”

“I’m in Harry.”

Chapter 9

The following morning Harry drove Sandy
to pick up her car. It wouldn’t start so he drove her to the
Chrysler dealership on Highway 9.

“Take your pick,” he said.

“You’re kidding?”

“No, go ahead and pick one but if
you’re with me then make it inconspicuous, not a red sports car.
Got me?”

“I don’t have the money to buy the runt
of the litter on this lot.”

“It’s on me. If you’re going to come to
my rescue you’d better have something that won’t stall along the
way.”

“Where did you get the
dough?”

“I never spent dime one of my pay for
the last three years. Where I was the only thing for sale were
goats and booze. A coalition soldier doesn’t last long drunk in
Afghanistan and I didn’t have any use for a goat.”

“I can’t decide, Harry.”

“Like this Chrysler 300? It’s got a
Hemi in it.”

“Yah, but look at the price tag on the
side window. More money than I’ll ever have.”

A salesman approached with the usual
phoney grin acting as though he was about to become a best friend.
He sat them in his cubicle and pulled the paperwork on the black
sedan. He added some figures which seemed asinine to Harry as the
full list price was on the paperwork. After ten minutes of juggling
figures he said,

“I can get it for you at two thousand
under list.”

He smiled as though he’d just sold them
a winning lottery ticket.

“We can put in an offer but I need five
percent down. A cheque will do.”

Harry always lost patience at that
point.

“When I go to Wal-Mart to buy a pair of
jeans they don’t give me any bullshit. They have the price listed
on the item. I pay for it and I’m on my way in seconds. Maybe
that’s why they’re so successful.”

“You’re not buying a pair of jeans.
You’re making an investment.”

“Look, go see the sales manager and get
me a price or I’ll go somewhere else. I don’t have time for this. I
have to find a man and shoot him.”

The salesman’s eyes went wide: he
grabbed the paperwork and left. Sandy laughed.

“I like your style Harry.”

The salesman returned and asked them
come to the manager’s office. He looked up at Harry.

“I’ll write out a deal for my lowest
price on that sedan. You can either take it or leave it. Meanwhile
I need a cheque for five thousand down.”

“Go on,” said Harry.

He made out the cheque and Sandy gave
the manager her identifications.

“The car has to be ready in two hours,”
said Harry.

“It’ll take longer than that to clean
it,” said the manager.

“Then don’t. I’m writing a cheque for
the balance so the deal can be completed.”

“Look, I have to verify you’re good for
this amount. I mean it’s irregular.”

“No you don’t because while you’re
changing the ownership I’ll go and get a Bank Draft. It’s like cash
buddy. Then give me back the cheques.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Yah, so finish with Sandy. I’ll get
the draft.”

Harry returned from the bank and an
hour later the plates were being screwed onto the sedan. They had
two service boys wiping it down and vacuuming the interior. Sandy
had a week to inform her insurance broker she’d upgraded her car.
He’d be one happy camper bringing in four times the premiums on the
new one as opposed to her old. Harry had already volunteered to pay
the first year’s premiums.

“We’ll call this an early birthday
present, okay?”

She kissed him on the mouth.

“Not so early. It’s in a
month.”

“So how old will you be
then?”

“Do the math. I was Jarrod’s age,
remember?”

“That means you’ll be…”

She held her hand over his
mouth.

“Never say a ladies’ age in
public.”

Harry drove to Tony Moore’s house in
Tottenham, a half hour east on Highway 9, then five minutes north
on Tottenham Road. He’d inherited his parents house outside of
town, an old wood siding house in disrepair. At least that’s where
he lived three years ago. Sandy did exactly as she was told and
followed at a distance almost out of sight, armed to the teeth with
hair spray and a Swiss army knife.

There was only one car in the lane and
he wondered if it belonged to Karma or Tony. As he drove by he
noticed the rusty fenders on the old sedan and knew Karma would
never drive a car like that. She was a whore but a classy one.
Harry scouted the area while Sandy hung back.

He found a grassy lane and parked his
Cuda then slipped under and grabbed his weapon from the metal case.
He snuck along the woods to an empty field one hundred yards from
the house. He stuck his Beretta in his pants and pushed his jacket
over it. He crossed the open space as though on a nature walk,
eyeing the house for signs of movement.

Harry walked around the back of the
house and peeked through a break in the curtains then repeated it
at every window. Tony was dead to the world on the living room
sofa. The back door was locked but a key was in the old hiding
place near the eves. He searched the house finding no one inside
then stood over the sleeping Tony.

Harry pulled his weapon then tapped
Tony across the cheek. He woke, stoned, and through squinting eyes
stared at the gun.

“Hey bro, how’s it going?”

Bang. Harry fired a shot through Tony
Moore’s knee.

“You fucking bastard!”

Tony rolled off the couch onto the
carpet.

“I did that to get your attention. Now
tell me what’s going on or I’ll take out the other one.”

Tony rolled over in pain groaning but
aware.

“I don’t know a fucking thing. You got
to believe me. I was told you had to be eliminated, that’s all.
Sorry buddy but old Joe’s holding all the aces. I follow his orders
or I’m a dead man.”

Harry knew Moore didn’t have the
resolve to stand against anyone or anything including the Beretta
in his hand. He’d talk if he had anything to say. He was weak
before he started using but even weaker now. Karma would be the
driving force that kept Tony out of the gutter. He almost felt
sorry for his old friend and would have, had Tony not been so
adamant in killing him the night before.

“We’re even for the swim you made me
take, old buddy. Stay out of my way. If you don’t I will kill you
Tony.”

Harry left the house knowing he was no
closer to solving the mystery surrounding his brother’s death.
Sandy was waiting at the end of the lane in case he needed to make
a quick getaway. She was a natural at this backup business. Harry
wanted to wait for Karma but then he decided there would be nothing
to gain. If she did tell him anything he would only put the
emphasis on her and that could mean a beating or worse. If she did
know anything Joe Sharky would have her dealt with in his own
way.

At least Harry knew where Joe dumped
his bodies. He called the local police and told them he’d seen two
men in a boat throw a body into the reservoir last night,
anonymously of course. He hung up hoping there’d be more corpses
and they could be tied to Sharky. What a thing to hope for he
thought.

The next stop was Shelley’s apartment
in Alliston only ten minutes north. He’d simply looked in the phone
book for a Shelley Rosella. Harry had hidden his Beretta under his
Cuda again in case Moore reported him to the police. Tony wouldn’t
do that of course without checking with Joe Sharky first. Joe would
know better realizing that lawmen rutting through his affairs could
never be a positive move. Moore would be told to report a gun
accident. It would, in all probability, end there.

Harry claimed Joe Sharky had sent him
to deliver Shelley’s pay cheque. Shelley’s room mate told Harry
she’d moved out last night leaving no forwarding address. He
believed the woman because of her constant bickering about being
left with the full month’s rent. She showed him the empty bedroom
and closet. He was given her cell phone number which was something
at least.

In the car he dialled her number but
got nothing. It had been a long day without collecting one scrap of
information. He dialled Sandy’s cell and told her to head home. She
was out of sight but knew she’d be watching from some cubby
hole.

The following morning Sandy shook Harry
awake.

“It’s on the news. They found two
bodies in the reservoir yesterday.”

Something all of a sudden dawned on
him. Although they hadn’t actually seen Sandy, Sharky would connect
her to him. Who else would it be?

“You have to watch your ass Sandy. You
can tie Moore and the bouncer to me and the reservoir. They work
for Sharky. It would be a hard case to make but it would put
unwanted heat on Joe.”

Sandy shook her head.

“There’s nothing his legal eagles
wouldn’t flush down the toilette. He keeps himself distant from the
criminal end of his operation. I watch reality TV Harry. I know my
stuff.”

She laughed.

Chapter 10

Joe Sharky paced as he stared at Tony
Moore.

“I send you and a team of four to take
out one man and you blew it. Not only that but he shot you the next
day. Un-fucking believable.”

Joe paced while Tony hung his
head.

Bobby Mercer, Joe’s right hand man
said,

“Boss.”

He waited for permission to speak
because when Joe Sharky was in a sadistic mood you’d best go out to
the tool shed and get a shovel.

“Go ahead Bobby.”

“I think we need professional help with
this Tanner. One don’t survive in the Middle East where he’s been,
on luck alone. From what I hear he’s used to dealing against the
odds.”

“Is there an end point to this Bobby,
cause if there is get to it.”

“The preacher’s in town. I can have him
here tomorrow. He’s expensive but he always gets results. This
Tanner could stir up a lot of crap for us. He has already. I got to
keep my head down on account of the law’s buzzing all over the
place. Two dead bodies and people want answers. One was Terry
Marshall and you know he ties in to us.”

“So? He worked for me, so what? There’s
no smoking gun.”